Good old NHS

It was with a heavy heart that I passed through the portals of Clinic O, bearing the sleeping Reflex L. It was curled up like a baby mouse in the tupperware box which has been its home for the last two weeks and it felt rather like taking Sooty the cat to the vet for the last time. I even wondered if the painful boil which had mysteriously appeared overnight in my now vacant left ear canal was some kind of divine retribution.

I took my seat in the waiting area. Hospital radio was on the telly again, but by an amazing coincidence it was doing a Norman Collier broken microphone act. Maybe it’s to make me feel at home, I thought, just as John came out to call me to his office. After one of my customary garbled explanations, he reassured me that contrary to my characteristic self-fulfilling prophecies of doom, my hearing aid days are not yet over as far as he is concerned. Hurrah! In addition, Siemens have offered to send one of their audiologists to work with John and his probably least deaf, but most time-consuming patient. Hurrah! again.

“Let’s try you with this Chroma S, instead” he said cheerfully as he casually beheaded the Reflex L. It squealed lustily in its death throes. Then my latest new best friend was set up. John attempted to get a meaningful assessment of sound quality from me by offering prompts such as “Does it sound tinny? How about hollow?” but once again I was utterly useless with my descriptions.

I couldn’t hear any daleks, though, so his work was done for the time being.